


I Do Not Sleep

by Glamourchick1668



Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 16:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glamourchick1668/pseuds/Glamourchick1668
Summary: One year after the island, Jake struggles with the loss of his love.





	I Do Not Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slighter_writer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slighter_writer/gifts), [NympheSama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NympheSama/gifts), [griffon8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffon8/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Do Not Stand at my Grave and Weep](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/492589) by Mary Elizabeth Frye. 



> So...do you like angst? I like angst. Have some angst. A gift to my lovely friends on this site.

One year. One year since I lost her. And what a fucking year it has been. Found my best friend and worst enemy were both alive. I was jailed, and I was freed. And now I'm back on Hell Island, the island that gave me the love of my life and then yanked her right away from me before our marriage bed was cold. I don't know why the hell I agreed to be here. The other Catalysts goaded me into it, I guess. They kept saying we aren't complete without me. We're not complete without her, either. But I guess that was kinda the fucking point, and that's why they wanted to come in the first place.

A part of me knows I shouldn't be hard on them. They lost her, too. I know what she meant to them. It's just...I also know what she meant to me, and she meant more to me than she did to any of them. ...Except maybe Diego. But then...same as the others, Diego has the means of moving on. He has a future to look forward to. I've got Mike back. I've got my freedom. But what the fuck am I supposed to do with it? What's a future without her? Maybe in some hidden part of me, I wanted to be here. Wanted to be in this place where she was born, and where...where she was lost. Lost to us. She didn't die. At least I don't think she did. There was never a body. No leftover hollow shell that proved she had ever existed. And maybe that's why I'm down here on the beach in the moonlight, freezing my feet in the surf and sucking down the dregs from a bottle of tequila, hoping it will make my brain as numb as my feet.

We're staying with the Vaanti in Elyys'tel. Not really any other place we could go since her departure from the physical plane turned The Celestial to rubble. ...Elyys'tel is still standing. Still a giant fucking tree in the middle of this shit-tiny island that shouldn't really exist now that the soul has been sucked out of it. ...It's Niala'rei, too. Which really isn't helping anything. But I was handling everything until Grace read that damn poem...

“Jake?”

I close my eyes, groaning inwardly. Diego. I don't want him here. Not really. I don't want him intruding on my misery. But I don't have the heart or the will to send him away. I guess a part of me does want him here. Fucking story of my life, this whole trip. I want and I don't want. I choose and regret. I go back and forth in my brain until I'm frozen solid and I can't do a damn thing but stand and let things happen around me. I open my eyes and grunt, acknowledging his presence, but I don't look at him.

“Look...I won't ask if you're okay, because I know you're not. ...But I have to ask if you're safe.”

“Unless I pass out here and end up face down in the water, I'm safe as Fort Fucking Knox.”

“...Grace says to tell you she's sorry. She didn't expect the poem would upset you so much.”

I close my eyes again, my fingers tightening around the neck of the empty bottle in my fist. God, I wish I could swallow this goddamn stone in my throat. It feels like I'm being strangled.

“It wasn't the goddamn fucking poem!” I snarl, my voice husky with the effort of pushing breath past the knots. “...Grace shouldn't be sorry. She shouldn't feel bad...”

“Yeah. I know. Grace probably knows, too. ...You should come back to the village. It's getting kinda cold out.”

Finally, I look at him. He's shaved off the beard he grew while he was the Vaanti's captive, trimmed his hair close to his neck again. It still looks weird. It doesn't look right.

“...I thought I'd feel her,” I confess quietly. I'm sure my expression is pathetic. Like a rain-soaked stray puppy giving eyes to the first kind human they see. “I thought...I thought if I were here, I'd get a sense of her presence...feel close to her. But I don't. She's gone, Diego. Vaanu took every fucking piece of her...”

Diego stuffs his hands in his pockets, lowering his eyes. “...I can't say I agree,” he confesses softly. “I feel her everywhere. In everything. I'm not saying I don't miss her, but...I really can't say I feel like she's gone.”

I look away again. My vision is getting blurry. I'm not sure if it's tears or just that I'm drunk. “Well, she was your imaginary friend before she meant anything to the rest of us. Maybe you're just used to her being invisible to everyone but you.”

“...I'm not sure whether or not I should be offended by that.”

“Me neither.”

“She may have been my imaginary friend before, Jake. But not anymore. She's real. She was real on this island, and she's real wherever she is now. ...The person you loved wasn't a figment of anyone's imagination.”

“I _know_ she wasn't!” I growl. “That's...that's not the point...” 

“Yeah. I know it's not.” He is quiet for a moment. “...You might owe Grace an apology. You were pretty hard on her.” 

“I know. I know.” I rub my hands over my face. “...I'll apologize. Promise.” 

He doesn't speak again. At some point, he leaves, going back to the village. Back to his lover, who is alive and whole and tangible. At some point, I go back, too. Grace is already asleep when I get there, so I crawl into a hammock, vowing to apologize properly in the morning. 

 

The next thing I'm aware of, I'm on the beach again and the sun is going down. She's there, standing in the surf. She's wearing the same denim shorts and burgandy tank top she was wearing when I first met her. Sunset glows in her golden-blonde hair, making her look like she has a halo around her head. I approach her and she turns to me with warm smile. She glides toward me, arms outstretched, and I draw her in, never questioning her presence. I thread my fingers through her silken hair, and bend to capture her mouth with mine. 

We don't make love. We don't even speak. But there's no need. Everything that needs to be said is in that kiss, a kiss that might as well be sex for all the hunger and passion and fireworks passing between us. I could stay here forever. That is...I want to stay here forever. But I can't. Not really. Because this isn't real. The woman I'm kissing is only a memory. An afterimage. A footprint in the sand, and I'm bracing for the wave that will wash her away. I'm dreaming. The knowledge hits me with a fear that feels like an icy claw gripping my heart. 

“I don't want to wake up,” I whisper against her mouth, feeling like a frightened child. She pulls back slightly, cupping my cheek and looking at me with eyes that say more than her lips ever could. She doesn't want me to wake up, either. But she knows I have to. Because I'm alive, and she's...not with me. She's somewhere else that isn't this place. I shake my head. 

“No...no, Alodia, please. I can't...I don't know how to be without you. Maybe I did once, but not anymore. Please, just let me stay here with you...” 

She strokes my cheek, her eyes softening as she gives me a smile tinged with all the sorrow she must have known as the Endless, watching us all suffer over two-thousand loops. 

“Do not stand at my grave and weep,” she says gently. “I am not there. I do not sleep.” 

...It's the poem. The poem Grace found somewhere and recited tonight when she toasted to Alodia. I want to cry, but I can't right now. Tears don't exist in this dream. 

“No...no, you ain't in a grave. I don't know where you are, but it ain't a grave. There wasn't even a body we could bury...” In the waking world, the sensation that comes with that thought would have been a swallowed sob. But in here, it's a sharp, stabbing pain that might have woke me up if I weren't fighting it so hard. 

“...I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow.” She brings her other hand up to my face and tenderly draws me to her, touching our foreheads together. “I am the sun on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain.” 

“...Don't leave me...please...” The sun is rapidly descending, and night is settling in around us. In the waking world, I'm sure the opposite is true. “Don't make me go...” 

“...When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight...” She pulls back again, turning her gaze upward briefly. I'm compelled to look up at the silky black sky, shimmering with stars. “...I am the soft stars that shine at night.” 

My last words to her echo in my head:  _If I can't stay with you, at least I can get you where you need to go._ I held her against the crystal pillar, keeping her connected to Vaanu until the moment they both vanished in my arms. 

“...I'm sorry, Alodia. I'm so sorry. I should never've let you do it. If I hadn't've been going on about wanting to see Mike again...maybe you could've felt like you could've made a different choice. ...The world was burned and buried. I should've just let it go. You shouldn't've had to die to save it.” 

She steps back from me, though she still holds my hands. She gives me the same mournful smile and it feels like a knife in my gut. She shakes her head gently. 

“Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.” I feel her starting to fade from me. I grip her hands harder. 

“...Alodia...” She seems to hesitate, tipping her head slightly as if prompting me to continue. There are a thousand questions on the tip of my tongue. Where is she? Is she safe? Is she suffering? Can she remember? “...Do you miss me?” 

Any trace of a smile is wiped from her lips and she dips her head in a barely perceptible nod. “...I love you,” she whispers. 

And then she is gone. And I am awake in the bright sunlight. I stumble out of my hammock and puke into the nearest patch of leaves. When I'm done puking, I collapse into a heap and sob like a three-year-old until I think my head is gonna explode. ...When I'm done crying, Diego finds me again. I don't know if he was waiting for me to calm down or if it's just coincidence. I don't really care. I crane my neck to look up at him. The light makes my eyes burn. I can barely make him out. 

“...I dreamt about her,” I whisper. 

“Yeah?” He holds out a hand, and I slowly sit up to take it, letting him help me to my feet. 

“She recited the poem. The one Grace read last night.” When he thoughtfully digests that without comment, I turn to meet his eyes. “...I don't think I had that whole thing memorized. I only heard it once. I don't think I could totally recite it now.” 

“But she did? In your dream?” 

I nod. “Just...I'm just kinda wondering if you think it might be a sign...a sign that she ain't as gone as it seems like...” 

He smiles a little crookedly, but his eyes show sincerity. “...Yeah. Yeah, Jake. I do.” 

It ain't enough. It ain't nearly enough. But it's hope. And hope is something I can't afford to pass up right now. ...Dying won't reunite us. She isn't dead. Living is the only acceptable option right now. Because life means there's hope we can be together again. Somehow...

* * *

I join the others at the beach for breakfast. Or, I guess it's lunch by now. They greet me softly. I mumble a greeting back, then focus on Grace. 

“...Hey...Grace...I'm sorry I went off on you last night. I was...I was just lashing out, 'cause I miss her. It wasn't your fault.” 

“I know. Apology accepted. Sit down and have something to eat.” 

I sit. But I'm not in much mood to eat. Still, I make myself take a few bites. After a moment of silence, Aleister clears his throat. 

“...Estela and I have been discussing the possibility of having a new manorhouse built on the site of the former Celestial. With enough room for the eleven of us...and a few guests.” 

“Why would you wanna do that?” I mutter. 

“...Because we have also been discussing the possibility of doing this next year. Coming back to the island. But perhaps in the summer, rather than so close to Niala'rei. Perhaps on the anniversary of the day we flew from Costa Rica.” 

I look up, meeting his eyes. “...You think that's a good idea?” 

He holds my gaze. “...Alodia was our friend. She also saved the world. And we're the only ones who know it. Out of however many billions of people are alive because of her, we're the only ones who know she even existed. We're the only family she ever had.” 

I look back down at my plate. “...It ain't right,” I murmur. “It ain't right that no one knows who she is or what she did for them.” 

“No, It isn't. And that's why I think it's so important that we don't forget. We all have lives and futures that will likely take us away from each other. But if we lose our connection...”

“...We lose her,” I finish. “For good.” 

“But if we can make sure we come back here at least once a year to honor her memory and her sacrifice...” He sighs. “...It won't be enough. For what she gave and what she saved, it won't be enough. But I doubt anything ever could be. But I believe we owe it to her.” 

One by one, we all murmur our agreement. It's all less than she deserves. But no one can really give her what she deserves. 

...One year. I have survived one year without her. One year down and God-only-knows how many left. ...I don't know how I'll do it. 

* * *

 

 _Do not stand at my grave and weep_  
I am not there; I do not sleep.  
I am a thousand winds that blow,  
I am the diamond glints on snow,  
I am the sun on ripened grain,  
I am the gentle autumn rain.  
When you awaken in the morning's hush  
I am the swift uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circled flight.   
I am the soft stars that shine at night.   
Do not stand at my grave and cry,   
I am not there; I did not die. 

_\--Mary Elizabeth Frye_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder if one-shots every couple of DoV chapters is gonna become the norm? Probably not. I was actually just inspired by the beautiful poem I happened upon recently. ...Is it just me, or does Alodia kinda have a thing about reciting verse to her drunk loved ones when they're having emotional crises?


End file.
